


Rewards Are Fun

by spacecleavage



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, but basically smut, clarke is a messy girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecleavage/pseuds/spacecleavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a tumblr post (Basically Clarke is really messy)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewards Are Fun

Honestly, people don’t understand Clarke, literally nobody in the world got her system. Yes, she liked to have a strict, detailed plan for just about everything she did. The last time she had gone shopping, the wait at the queue had been too long and she had almost missed her bus. The time before that, they had been out of her brand of dishing washing detergent and it had taken her an extra five minutes to choose one that would suit her purposes.

So yes, she was a little obsessive about certain things and a perfectionist when it came to assignments, or reports, or well anything.

That’s why everyone is always surprised when they come to her apartment and everything is a mess. In her kitchen there is a stack of dirty dishes that threaten topple at any moment, the bench tops are cluttered with appliances (the base of a blender, a toaster, a sandwich press, an opened microwave and a half empty kettle) along with some tea towels, and a few bills and Thai food containers. Nobody tries to look in the fridge (Octavia admitted that she was scared that everything would come tumbling out and crush her) (Lincoln says she has nightmares about it).

In her living room, it has hard to see the floor because apparently the fryer down stairs broke and Clarke doesn’t own an airier and so the clothes just get put there. Her coffee table has disappeared under notes from class with a few mugs scattered throughout. Her couch always has a sheet drying on it, because it is the only space big enough to dry it. And littered around her TV is her collection of movies and TV series.

Her bathroom is a disaster, all the shelves are overflowing with things, and so is the bench top. All her hair ties scattered among the mess and though everything is technically ‘clean’ it was amazing disorganised.

Her bedroom is tragic, her desk is invisible under all her things (there are a few dishes, a piles of notes, a printer). Her laptop is sitting on her desk chair, which she has wheeled next to her bed. There are a pile of dirty clothes at the end of her bed and her laundry hamper is full, and her rubbish bin is overflowing. Clarke’s bed is unmade the pillows are in weird positions.

So yes, Clarke is messy, but she is also, brilliant, beautiful, organised and… is that a cheeto in her hair?

Bellamy almost never comes over and while he claims it is to do with travel time to class and work and a plethora of other reasons, but everyone knows that it is because she is messy.

How she had managed to get him to her apartment this time, he wasn’t quite sure, maybe it was something to do with drinking at a new place, which was much closer than his place and he had texted his girlfriend begging her to let him stay rather than having to try and get back to his place on the other side of town.

She had let him up into her apartment and he had staggered up the stairs to her.

“Clarke,” he slurred, he sounded so much drunker than he sounded and he knew he should have just shut his mouth and gone to brush his teeth but the words kept tumbling out of his mouth. “When we move in together, we’re moving into my place right?” she frowns at him for a second before starting to manoeuvre him to the bathroom (he has his arms around her shoulders and he isn’t sure how that happened, he just knows he can see a cheeto in her hair.

“I mean, this place is a complete mess, I get that it is part of your process but it’s a pigsty!” he keeps speaking all he wants to do is put his hand over his mouth but he is using the other one to guide himself along the wall, he wouldn’t want to fall over and break something in his state.

“Bell, you’re drunk,” she mumbles, clearly trying to change the subject but he is on a roll.

“But babe,” he stops to speak and sloppily moves his hands to cup her face, “I like clean and you like messy and I don’t think I have ever seen the floor of your living room,” and the look on Clarke’s face is the last thing he remembers for the night. (It was half heartbroken, half disappointed)

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They don’t talk about what happened that night but he always remember that look on her face and when it comes time to resign his lease, she simply asks he doesn’t he move in with her. Her place is bigger than his and even though it is a further away from campus, it is much cheaper and in a nicer neighbourhood (surprisingly). And even though he thinks about the mess, he also remembers her face from that night and agrees.

Clarke spends the day before Bellamy is set to move in cleaning her apartment. She honestly nearly cried when she realised how much she would have to do, but she loves Bellamy and she wants this to be his space too. So she started in the kitchen and worked her way through her house.

She was actually surprised how good it felt to clean her apartment; there was something so satisfying about the menial work that she couldn’t define. She realised she would need to do this at least once a week if she wanted to keep it clean.

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The next day she was washing out her coffee pot when she heard Bellamy knocking at the door. “Clarke?” his voice echoed through her their apartment.

“Kitchen,” she called back as she turned to the entrance so she could see his face as he saw what she had done instead of helping him pack.

To say he was shocked might have been an understatement, his jaw had basically hit the floor when he realised what she had done and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as he looked around the room.

“Did you…” he trailed off as he walked around the bench to where she stood. Her eyes lit up as she smiled up at him.

“Do you know how fucking hot I find that?” he ground out as he pulled her into his arms to hug her. His face was buried in her neck and he was squeezing her so tight she was scared she might explode but this feeling was too good to care. Her heart started racing as his lips kissed her neck again.

“Am I getting a reward?” she teased as he finally pulled back, and she watched as his pupils got a bit wider and he begun to sink to his knees before her.

He dragged his face down the front of her oversized t-shirt, as his hands moved down from her waist to settle on her hips, pulling her against him. She looked down as he pulled her shirt up a bit so that he could nuzzle at her belly button. She could feel her heart pick up a gear and her knees weakening as fingers worked into the waist band of her yoga pants, so that he could pull them (or at least she hoped he would pull them down, he was known to torture her). Her eyes fluttered closed as his tongue darted out of his mouth to swirl a pattern on her skin. She felt one of his hands slip back around to the small of her back, some of his fingers still dragging under the hem of her pants, the rough pads of his fingers driving her insane as she let out a silent sigh.

Something must have changed in that second that she was revelling of him kneeling before her (don’t even get her started on the power trip that she was feeling), because his teeth were nibbling at her hip bones as his free hand slowly dragged her pants down. His other hand was completely occupied making sure she could move her hips away from him.

His lips slowly trail along the crease where her legs meet her body, and to her entrance. She felt a rush of adrenaline as he breathed her in, his nose moving to a spot where it gently brushed against her clit. She let out another sigh, this time however it contained the faint rumblings of a groan as that rush of adrenaline turned to heat in her blood and settle between her hips. His tongue circled around her entrance before dipping in to taste her and Clarke nearly buckled at that point. One of her hands flew backwards to brace herself against the bench, while the other buried itself in his hair, tugging at his curly locks, before trying to pull him closer to her. She could feel him smile against her before his tongue twisted inside of her and her whole body shook.

“Bell…” she groaned out as his hand moved up under her shirt to her breast. She tossed her head back as he moved back up to her clit, his tongue dancing around her a couple of times before sealing his lips around her. Her whole body quivered, tightening up as the waves of pleasure crested upon her until she was finally flung from the great height and then she was flying and falling all the same time. Her heart soared, she could hear sobbing but in her throes of pleasure she could not realise that it was her. And then his teeth were at her clit, not biting but rubbing against it that pushed her higher and higher. She could herself get wetter than she ever had before, but she not a care in the world as that pleasure, the beautiful thing tore through her, touching her entire body.

She don’t know how long she stayed there, on that high, all she knew was that it was good. (There were so many other words to describe when she thought of it later, but in that moment, all her pleasure soaked mind could come up with was good.)

Her eyes opened to Bellamy, cleaning her with his tongue and as she looked down at him panting she spoke, “If that is the reward I get for cleaning up, this place is never going to be dirty again,”

(It was, but her reward for cleaning up made sure it never stayed that way for long)


End file.
